


Will Graham: An Original Crime Scene

by PerduEtSeul



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Crime Scene, Violence, dont kill me for my lack of medical knowledge, original crime scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerduEtSeul/pseuds/PerduEtSeul
Summary: Inside the mind of Will Graham at a crime scene.





	Will Graham: An Original Crime Scene

Standing in the middle of the Fuller's home, he didn't see their bodies bloody and broken. He didn't see the smears in the wall where one of the men had tried to get out. He didn't see the shattered coffee table that lay beneath the body of the other man. 

He saw their home as it was on the night they died. Calm and quiet. The couple sat in front of the TV watching a movie in the dark.   
He saw a couple that loved each other.   
And had no clue what was about to happen. 

The jarring pain of kicking in a front door shot up his leg but it didn't deter his steps. He knew that he'd have to act fast because the element of surprise was lost at his entry.   
Two men, alerted to his presence in their home, immediately rise to defend, scatter, scream… It didn't matter. Not that he was already inside. 

Disabling the larger of the two men was what he planned first. The smaller man could wait just a moment longer. After all, he didn't want them dead. Not yet. He would get to that. 

Brass knuckles aided him in the act of physical violence. Landing a strong right cross on Martin Fuller's temple, dropping him like a stone. He'd wake up later.   
The smaller of the couple sat almost, frozen on the couch, cellphone gripped in his hand but unable to use it.   
Leaping over the back of the couch, his knees digging harshly into the man's thighs, using his own weight to keep him in place. Brass knuckles, dropped, forgotten as he wraps both hands around his throat. And it's at that point that Sean Fuller seems to come to life. Ducking his wildly swinging arms and digging his knees in harder, tucking his face against his arm to avoid being scratched. And it's not long before the hands sluggishly drop, unconscious taking Sean away for a while. 

Seven minutes. That's how long it takes for someone to die of manual strangulation. This is not the way that Sean was going to die. 

They'd both wake up. Maybe. But he had things to do before they did. 

This was why he'd chosen these two. Despite the commotion, there were no nosy neighbors. No dogs barking in the night. No wail of sirens in the distance.   
The silence of the night seeped in around him, save for his heart still pounding loudly in his ears.   
The television had somehow been switched off in the initial struggle, plunging the house into complete darkness. And he was grateful for that but it didn't change the sharpness or his vision, eyes darting around the room. Blood, blank and inky in the darkness, dripping from the corner of Martin's mouth. It pools shallowly on the floor under his head. 

Moving slowly off of Sean, he sets to work bringing his equipment into the house. Two large coolers filled with bags and a centrifugal blood pump, and a set of knives.

Martin needs to be first. He went down first and would likely wake up first. He'd also be the hardest one to get back down again. 

Moving quickly so that he can get everything set up before anyone can wake up. Dosing the both is them with three micrograms of fentanyl whether they were awake or not after this point was moot. They wouldn't be able to do anything about what was happening to them.   
He did have about forty five minutes before they were aware of what was going on. But hopefully he didn't have to worry about that. 

Setting up the central venous catheter that he unpacked from his cooler, looking between the two bodies, he had hoped to be able to do them both at the same time. But he would settle for one at a time. This was going to take longer than planned but he moved slowly and methodically to meet his goals. 

Setting up Martin first, tapping into his jugular vein, just behind his collar bone, switching on the pump. Slowly draining the blood from his body, plastic bags filling with the warm liquid. 

He couldn't resist the urge to take one of the freshly filled bags, loosening the nozzle, careful not to spill a drop. Tipping the bag up to his lips, letting the coppery, got liquid flow over his tongue. A guttural moan falling from his lips, his hunger only half quenched. 

The edges of his vision snapping and breaking, gasping loudly. His entire body trembling almost violently, staggering to lean against the door jamb. Blinking rapidly as his vision and hearing becomes his own again. 

 

"Will!" Jack was already past the point of shouting by the time he could acknowledge him. 

Will blinked and suddenly he raised his hands, wiping the backs across his mouth fully expecting for them to be streaked and smeared with blood. He glanced over at Jack.

"Jack?" He asked, his voice shaking.  

Jack frowned at him, his face taking on a pinched appearance. The head of the BAU always had the way of treating Will like malfunctioning equipment that he couldn't find the parts to fix, but was too valuable to throw out.

Moving towards the older man, reluctantly diving into his analysis of the crime scene.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated.


End file.
